The Happiest Day in Oz - Redux
by tfn-fanficfan
Summary: On the happiest day in Oz, Glinda the Good visits an unmarked grave. A 1st person re-write of a story I posted in 2010
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Just for the record, I do not own Wicked. I have seen it enough times that I feel I should be a shareholder though.

A/N: I actually published this story back in 2010. But I was never entirely happy with how I wrote it and I've been picking away at it since then. I eventually switched from a 3rd to 1st person PoV to try and free up my muse. I'm still not entirely happy with this and chances are I'll make further edits in the future, but I thought I'd get it out there and see what people think. If there's interest and if inspiration strikes I may try to continue it further but I promise nothing.

Enjoy

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I come to this place every year. While the rest of Oz celebrates the demise of the Wicked Witch, I find myself standing once again before a lonely grave in a lonely cemetery, tears rolling down my cheeks. For every blazing firecracker that explodes over the Emerald City another sob escapes my lips, for every crescendo of the roaring crowd my heart breaks a little bit more.

I almost smile, almost, as the old goat I have brought with me starts chewing away the overgrown grass & excess weeds, just as he does every year, leaving untouched only the single pink bloom that I planted so many years earlier. Most people think he looks quite ridiculous with his tattered old waistcoat; I know that many Animals think I'm trying to mock them by dressing him up like this. I don't care in the slightest. He deserves to wear his clothes with pride.

I tried to avoid it, but just like every year my eyes flicker over the largely blank headstone, committing to memory the already perfectly memorised inscription. "For Good," I sniff to myself, my fingers tracing the words as the tidal wave of grief batters away my last shreds of self-control.

My tears fall freely now, a steady stream of salt water falling on the dusty ground as great, shuddering sobs wrack my body. I reach out blindly and the goat is there, just as he always is, letting me wrap my arms around him and weep into his coat.

"Excuse me miss, I don't mean to disturb you but are you alright?" The voice is soft, gentle. I want nothing more than to scream at the owner of that voice, to yell and cry and carry on until they leave me alone.

I loosen my grip on the old goat, although I can't quite bring myself to let go, "I'll be fine. I've just come to visit an old friend." I leave it hanging, hoping that whoever the woman behind me is she'll get the message and leave. "I'd very much like to be alone please," I add when she doesn't take the hint.

"Oh I'm sorry miss," and she actually does sound sorry. "I didn't mean to intrude. It's just that today's supposed to be a celebration. It's the happiest day in Oz."

It takes everything I have to not break down again when she says that. "Not for everyone," I manage to force out. "Not for me."

Only silence follows my despairing whisper and I allow myself to believe the woman is gone. My attention returns to the headstone before me, to the hated words of the inscription there, and I struggle to think of happy memories. Of anything really. Anything that isn't the gaping void which exists where the "Wicked Witch" used to be in my life.

"Who was your friend?"

Sometimes I really hate being Glinda the Good, it makes it very hard to be angry at people. I can tell that this woman is trying to make me feel better, she wants to help. And for perhaps the first time I tell someone about my "friend".

"She was someone I went to school with," I say as I wipe the most recent tears from my face. "She was…" My voice hitches as I remember that night, "she was killed by the Wicked Witch, just before Dorothy melted her." It is the truth, in a way. And I like to think she would have liked that.

"Oh, I'm... I'm so sorry to hear that." The woman says, "she must have been very special person for you to still miss her so much."

My eyes glisten with fresh tears but they do not fall, instead I feel a small smile tug at my lips. Annoying as I have found her, this woman has helped me to remember the Wicked Witch I missed the most. The one I went to college with, the one who wore that stupid hat and danced regardless of what people thought. The one who invited me to see the Emerald City for the first time.

"Yes she was," I reply. "She was very special indeed."

"I'll leave you with your very special friend then," the woman says and for a moment I almost feel sad that she is going, because she has given me back something I thought I had lost. "And though I wish the circumstances were happier, it has been a true joy to speak with you again miss Galinda."

"Thank you," I say as I hear her footsteps move away, my thoughts already returning to the nearly forgotten memories, the happy memories, of my first true friend. "It was nice to…" My voice trails away as something sticks in my mind. _A trues joy to speak with you again…_ When had she spoken to me before? _The "Gah" is silent…_ I haven't been called Galinda in years. _The "Gah" is silent…_ Hardly anyone these days even knows I was called that. _The "Gah" is silent…_ I gave up that part of myself when…

"WAIT!" I yell as I leap to my feet, gathering my skirts so I wouldn't trip over them in my haste to catch up the woman. She was already halfway across the graveyard but she stopped at my desperate cry. "What did you call me?" I demand. She is still facing away from me, her long, black hair hanging loosely down to the small of her back. She stands perfectly still and into the silence I continue, "No one has called me by that name for more than 16 years and the tiny handful of people who did know me by that name are either long dead or would never use it. So then..."

She remains as still as a statue, I wonder if she is even breathing. I wait for her to come clean, to say who she is but the silence stretches on.

The old goat startles me, butting his head against my leg to get my attention. I glance down and see the pink bloom from the grave sticking out of his mouth. My first instinct is to scream at him but he nudges my leg again. A tiny spark of hope that I dare not believe in makes my fingers tremble as I take the flower from his teeth. He gives me another nudge, this time pushing me forward and I take a few hesitant steps towards the tall woman.

I know that this can't be real, because I was there and I saw what happened to her. But as I slide the stem of the pink flower into the dark tresses of her hair that little spark within my heart pulses.

As I take a step back her black-gloved hand reaches up to caress the flower.

"You know you were right, all those years ago," the woman says as she slowly turns around and my heart freezes in my chest.

"Pink does go good with green."


	2. Chapter 2

For fifteen years I have dreamed of this moment, for fifteen years I have longed for it, begged for it. I have prayed to every god from every religion throughout Oz that this moment would come to pass.

But in all those fifteen years I have never once dared to hope that it really would. I have never believed that it even could happen, that I would actually get to see her again. I have never stopped to consider how I would actually feel if I learned she was alive.

I am bloody furious!

"How _dare_ you!" I hiss, too far beyond anger to even raise my voice.

"Glinda I…" The distance between us is crossed with two quick strides as my hand shoots out with blinding speed.

*CRACK*

The taller woman stumbles back under the force of my slap but quickly steadies herself, black-gloved fingers covering the blotchy handprint already taking shape on her cheek. "Do you feel better now?" she asks me.

"NO I DO NOT!" It is fortunate that the fireworks display is still in progress or the crowds in the Emerald City would surely have heard me.

I try to close in for another blow but find the goat between me and my target, stubbornly blocking my advance. "Get out of the way you silly old goat!"

"Glinda! Just because you didn't like history is no reason to be disrespectful."

I give up trying to get passed the old goat and turn away from the tall, dark haired woman. My breathing is ragged and I can feel tears forming in my eyes but I refuse to let them fall. I am still too angry for that.

"Let me tell you about being 'disrespectful'." I begin, my voice shaking with the strain of not falling to little pieces, "Because of you, I cried myself to sleep every single night for more than a year. I still have regular nightmares featuring black dresses and flying brooms. And do not speak to me about red shoes! And you have the nerve to stand there and tell me that I'm being disrespectful?!"

I have to pause and take a few deep breaths, desperately trying to keep from going completely hysterical. "No I'll tell you what's disrespectful. What's disrespectful is you letting me come here for fifteen years to cry over the grave of a woman who isn't… who isn't even…"

The tiny thread of composure I've been clinging to finally unravels and I sink to my knees with fresh tears pouring down my face.

I can feel her arms encircle me, steadying me, before I can collapse completely. "Shh. Shh, it's ok Glinda. Everything's going to be alright," she murmurs, her hands rubbing soothing circles into my back.

"Oh Elphie... You were... I thought you were dead." I sob as she pulls me tighter into her embrace and I latch onto her desperately, crying into her shoulder while she gently cradles my head in her hand

"I'm sorry Glinda. For all the pain I've caused you I am so sorry." I can hear the edge of tears in her voice now and I shake my head, try to tell her that it's ok but my voice isn't working so I just hold on even tighter until the storm of emotion passes me by.

I'm not quite sure how long we've been kneeling here on the ground; the fireworks display above the Emerald City has long since ended, the crowds dispersing back to homes or clubs for sleep or to party on as the mood strikes them.

We gently ease out of our embrace and get back on our feet again. A simple task made complex by my ridiculous skirt and the fact that neither of us wants to let go of the other.

We stand quietly for a moment, hand in hand, before I reach up to her cheek and gently trace the darker green blotch where my hand struck. "Sorry about that," I start to say but she cuts me off.

"It's ok. I think I probably deserved that."

A few more moments are spent in silence as we gaze over the Emerald City before I force myself to ask the question that I'm not sure I want to know the answer to. "What happens now, Elphie? Oz still isn't safe for you, it probably never will be."

"I know. Coming back was a bad idea. I just wanted to see that you were ok, that you were safe and alive. I wasn't supposed to speak with you but…" I can see her struggling to keep composed so I pull her back into my arms, offering what comfort I can provide. After a few seconds she continues, "I have spent the last fifteen years convincing myself that you could move on, that you would be happy, but when I saw you tonight you just looked so sad, so broken."

"I was broken. For fifteen years I was broken, but now that I know you're alive I can't go back to the way things were."

"You know I can't stay here…"

"Then you'll just have to take me with you. I won't lose you again Elphie."

She pulls away slightly so her eyes can meet mine, "are you sure Glinda? You won't be the Good Witch of the North anymore."

"You mean I could be Glinda? Just Glinda Upland?" Her nod stretches a wide smile across my face, "that would be wonderful."

"And you'll have a lot to learn very quickly."

"I'm sure I can handle it. I'm not the academically challenged girl you once knew."

She smiles at that, but then she hesitates as if she's afraid to ask… "Why?"

I don't answer straight away. I take her hand and lead her back through the grave yard. To a lonely, unmarked grave where a solitary pink bloom no longer grows. "Because, Elphaba Thropp, knowing you has changed me. I don't know if I've been changed for the better," I say as I guide her fingers over the old inscription. "But I'd like nothing more than for that change to be for good."


End file.
